At George’s request, they entered the dining room informally and seated themselves around the table however they wished. This was just for family and friends. Champagne was poured, and Hart was about to give the signal for the food to be brought in when George tapped him on the arm, then rose to her feet.

“I know it’s not done, but we are all family here, and I want to make a speech,” she said. Aunt Agatha lifted her lorgnette and pursed her lips.

“I want to propose a toast,” George continued. “To my darling Martha, who raised me from an infant and was the closest thing to a mother I ever had, loving and long-suffering and patient.” She turned a mock severe glance at Phillip and Danny, who had been allowed to attend their first grown-up dinner and were sitting in their best clothes, trying not to fidget. “Boys, you are not to ask Martha about anything I did when I was a girl.” The boys turned speculative gazes on Martha, who was simultaneously wiping her eyes and chuckling.

“To Cal, who brought me kicking and yelling—literally—into the Rutherford family and made me a lady—yes, I know, Aunt Agatha, only in the technical sense, but it was the first I knew I had a title.”

Everyone laughed.

“Cal, you have also been loving and long-suffering and even almost patient at times.”

Everyone laughed again.

“To Emm, who became part mother, part sister, beloved friend and mentor. You might not have succeeded in making me into a lady but you showed me what a true lady was.” Cal who, unfashionably, was sitting beside his wife, kissed Emm’s hand.

“To my sisters of the heart, my aunts, Lily and Rose, who were the first real friends I ever had. And to their husbands, Edward and Thomas, my brothers-in-law of the heart.”

“To Aunt Dottie, full of love and wisdom and who is the living embodiment of how to live a happy life.” Her smile took in Logan, who’d traveled to London with Aunt Dottie and was hovering behind her chair, acting as her own personal waiter.

“To Aunt Agatha, who also tried to make me into a proper lady, and whose auntly interference accidentally resulted in my happiness—but don’t do it again! Interfere, I mean.”

There was more laughter at that. Aunt Agatha frowned, then gave a tight little smile and preened a little.

“To my grandfathers of the heart, dear Lord Galbraith and Sir Humphrey.” George smiled at Edward’s grandfather and at Emm’s father, Sir Humphrey Westwood, who wasn’t really all that close—he was something of a hermit—but she couldn’t leave the poor old fellow out.